


A Tug, A Pull

by nightbirdrises



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Other, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightbirdrises/pseuds/nightbirdrises
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <img/><br/></p>
</div>In a world where soulmates exist but often never find each other, two teenage boys in Ohio soon give up on finding theirs. But when circumstances draw them too far apart for either of them to ignore, it’s only a matter of time, impulse, and a little bit of luck.
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think it's heavy enough to tag as such, but there's a post-bashing bit in this chapter and then (later on) some relatively light reference to steroid use. Enjoy *u* ([Tumblr](http://kurtfuckmel.tumblr.com/post/41766686335))

“I can’t believe we have to do this,” Kurt grumbled to himself, eyeing the other freshmen around him warily. The gym was packed and he was sitting in the second row of the bleachers, right on the edge of the aisle. The student to his left - an admittedly cute, tall boy talking excitedly about the upcoming football tryouts - had given Kurt a wide berth.

“Well, I think it’s important,” a too-loud voice said from the row behind him. Kurt turned to see a girl who looked as though the children’s section at Kohl’s had exploded all over her. He raised an eyebrow, hoping she got the hint to continue. With an exaggerated huff, she did. “We should be educated about soulmates because it’s a huge part of our culture and without knowing what the concept means we could make serious mistakes that define our entire existence.”

Kurt stared at her, wide-eyed and a little bit scared. “I think you might be overreacting. I’ve heard that only about 30 percent of people even find their soulmates, so it can’t be _that_ disastrous-“

“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t know everything we can about it! Your soulmate is the one person that truly completes you and without her, you’re always going to feel at least a little bit lost.”

“I’ll take my chances, thanks,” Kurt snapped. The girl crossed her arms, clearly as irritated as Kurt felt. He hoped he’d never have to speak to her again; unfortunately, the universe seemed to have it in for him today.

“I’m Rachel Barbra Berry, by the way. Future Broadway star.”

“Kurt Hummel. Future murderer,” he added in an undertone as he turned back around, relieved when the lights started to dim. On the makeshift stage, the principal - Kurt couldn’t remember his name - stepped up to the microphone, tapping it a few times before speaking.

“Good afternoon. Quiet children. Quiet please. I would like to introduce a very important speaker to you all today. Please give your best McKinley High welcome to Mr. Terry, author of _Soulmates: A Mystery Unsolved_.”

There was scattered applause as a short, slightly rotund man dressed in a drab grey suit stood up from a chair at the edge of the stage. He took over the microphone with a nod and adjusted it - a high-pitched squeal pierced the room, drawing a number of groans from the crowd, but Mr. Terry didn’t so much as flinch.

“Hello, I’m Mr. Terry,” he said - actually, it was more of a mumble. Kurt tipped his head back, silently pleading to a God he didn’t believe in that this would be over soon. “I’m here to give you the basics on soulmates. Can anyone tell me what a soulmate is? Yes, you - in the red.”

“It’s the person you get the best sex from,” the student said, his voice smug. Kurt craned his neck to see who it was; sure enough, he spotted the trademark mohawk. Noah Puckerman.

“Hm. Well, that’s not untrue-” Mr. Terry was interrupted by a few appreciative whistles. “-but I’m looking for something more like… the person that you’re drawn to without regard to anything but love, your other half. A missing puzzle piece, if you will.

“Now, I’m sure you’ve heard some of this from your parents, but in a few years - most likely between the ages of 18 and 21 - a Letter will appear. Capital L,” he added for clarification. “Usually it’s on the left wrist but, in rare cases, it can be on the right. It’s the first letter of your soulmate’s first name. Any questions?”

Mr. Terry glanced around the audience, looking equally as bored as the students. Kurt stretched, straightening his posture out of habit, and thought of all the things he could have been doing instead of sitting through this lecture. He could have started and finished his French homework by now.

When no one raised their hand, Mr. Terry continued. “A few things come with the arrival of the Letter, meant to help you find your soulmate. Depending on how far from your soulmate you are at any given time, you’ll feel a tugging sensation. Imagine tying a string around your wrist and having someone pull at the other end - that’s what it feels like.

“The further you are from your match, the harder the pull will feel. It’s not painful, but it can be annoying. The closer you are, however, the more the sensation will fade.”

Kurt felt his attention ebbing; it wasn’t that he didn’t care about finding his soulmate, he _did_ , but having it all explained to him so clinically was off-putting. Mr. Terry said a few more words to summarize what he’d already described, Kurt practically halfway out of his seat in anticipation of their dismissal.

“I have a question,” someone asked, clearly unaware of the glares now directed at her. “Can anyone be soulmates?”

“That’s a controversial subject. Many feel that those who claim to have same-sex soulmates are faking it.”

“Of course,” Kurt muttered as the principal dismissed the students to their final class of the day. “Because anyone that strays from the beaten path must be delusional.”

“That’s an old-fashioned, bigoted opinion,” Rachel sniffed; she must have been following him.

“Do you mind? I have a class to get to.”

“I’m just saying that my dads are gay, and they’re definitely each other’s soulmates.” It sounded as though she’d repeated that line more than just a few times, and though Kurt’s mood was distinctly lifted by this information, her voice still rang a little too loudly in his ears.

“That’s fantastic, Rachel. May I go to English now?”

“We’re in the same class,” she reminded him. Kurt had to resist banging his head against the nearest locker, instead forcing a smile on his face as he nodded.

He stepped into the classroom, trying not to let his thoughts stray. Despite his efforts, a little flare of hope expanded in his chest as he imagined meeting his soulmate at last. He wondered if it would be immediately after turning eighteen, as some did - as his own father did.

As Kurt sat down in his seat, now aware of Rachel’s presence on the other side of the room, he realized that he wanted to be in that 30 percent more than he cared to admit.

 

* * *

 

His chest hurt. His ankle hurt. His head hurt worse, hardly alleviated by the steady beeping that pounded its way into Blaine’s skull as he slowly drew out of his stupor. He kept his eyes closed, unwilling to face the real world just yet.

The last thing he remembered was something swinging at him - a bat, maybe - and then nothing. He remembered excruciating pain, so much pain that it gave way to near numbness, like white noise. He also remembered a sharp, stinging sensation in his wrist.

Which was still there.

Blaine groaned as he blinked his eyes open, trying to adjust to the sudden, crisp light of the hospital room. There were voices, but they were distorted and Blaine couldn’t make sense of them, so he didn’t try to listen. Instead, he tried to lift up his right arm, wincing at the spike of hot pain that shot through his wrist every other second, a steady rhythm.

Just when he’d almost managed to get his arm up far enough to see what was wrong, someone pushed it carefully back down, their tone urgent.

“…have to stay still, Blaine, don’t want to make anything worse,” she was saying, and Blaine recognized the voice as his mother’s. “The pain meds must be wearing off if you’re waking up, I’d better-“

“Wh- What’s on my-” Blaine mumbled, shifting his arm as much as he could to indicate what he was talking about.

“I don’t see anything, honey,” she said. “Maybe there’s a scratch they missed on the inside of your arm, let me-” She stopped abruptly after turning Blaine’s arm over so his palm faced upwards.

“Mom?”

“You’ve got- Look,” she said, gently lifting his forearm. On the inside of his right wrist was a small Letter, a K, which looked as though it was written in bright red ink. It continued to sting, and Blaine said as much.

She nodded, putting Blaine’s arm back down for him.

“I’ll get someone to help explain,” she said, leaving. “You rest.”

But Blaine couldn’t rest. Despite how exhausted his entire body was just from the effort of waking up, the discovery of the Letter had him too curious. He wasn’t eighteen, wouldn’t be for a few years yet - why was it suddenly here?

He heard a door opening and a new voice, somewhat high-pitched and way more cheerful than Blaine thought the situation called for.

“Hello Blaine! I’m Dr. Anderson - we have the same last name!”

_Oh dear God._

“Anyways, you can call me Betty. You mom said that you got your Letter a bit early?”

“Yeah,” Blaine croaked, though he was glad to find that his voice was getting stronger. “Why?”

“Well, sometimes when one person ends up in a traumatic situation, something in their brain instinctively reaches out for their soulmate ahead of time, so the Letter appears! It’s not too uncommon, but it’s not something that happens every day either. It’s like your body is trying to help you find the one person that can truly help you no matter what.”

“Does the other person get it too?” his mother asked.

“Yes, and I’m afraid it’s hurting for her too, Blaine,” Betty said with an expression that was probably meant to be apologetic but it was more of a leer than anything. “Still, whoever this girl is - maybe a Katie, or a Kellie - I think she’s going to be very lucky to find you, you little charmer!”

“But I’m-” Betty left without another word, completely ignoring his halfhearted protest. “-gay.”

“It’s okay, honey,” his mom said, rubbing his arm comfortingly. “You know, there aren’t very many boy names that start with K…”

“Please don’t start this,” Blaine muttered. “Not now.”

“Well, it would certainly be safer for you, if that dance was any indication,” she said with a hard edge to her words. Her expression softened, however, as she watched her son - broken and defeated and _lost_. “I agree with that basket case, though. Whoever it is is one lucky person.”

Blaine smiled with a little difficulty - the muscles hadn’t had a need to move that way in a few days - and felt himself drifting off. He had one more question, though.

“Why is my Letter red? Yours and all the others I’ve seen are black.” He didn’t mention how his mother’s Letter didn’t match his father’s name; that was considered disrespectful since so many people never did find their soulmates, and it’s usually a touchy subject for that reason.

“I’m not sure, but I have seen a few red Letters,” she said. “It’s still a mystery, but some people say that a red Letter is a sign of a more intense bond with your soulmate, whatever that might involve. Others say it’s no different, but I guess that’s up to you to find out,” she added with a wink.

They talked for a short while longer about Blaine’s hospital stay (a bruised ribcage, a mild concussion, not as bad as it could have been given the circumstances) and then his mother had to leave.

“Your father wants me to attend his company dinner, so I need to get ready,” she’d said, a bit sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Blaine sighed, accepting the kiss on his forehead.

He had plenty to think about, to keep himself occupied until he finally fell under the influence of the pain medication again, but it still stung that she was leaving. Didn’t he - who was bedridden in a hospital after having been attacked, never mind that he was their _son_ \- rate higher than a fancy dinner?

As usual, however, Blaine didn’t say anything. With a final wave and a nervous smile that looked more like a pained grimace, his mother left. He expected the familiar sense of loneliness to come once she’d gone out the door, but it never did. He felt angry, resentful, but not lonely.

As he refocused his attention on the pain shooting through his wrist, now at a much slower rate, he thought maybe he _wasn’t_ alone anymore. Not like he used to be.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a world where soulmates exist but often never find each other, two teenage boys in Ohio soon give up on finding theirs. But when circumstances draw them too far apart for either of them to ignore, it's only a matter of time, impulse, and a little bit of luck.

Kurt stalked out of the school, pulling out his keys and unlocking his Navigator with a beep and a flash of the headlights from across the parking lot. The  _nerve_  they had, didn’t Puck and the others realize he had enough on his plate without having to put up with their shit?

Of course not. No one ever did.

He sat in his car, his head tipped back as he rubbed his Letter absently underneath his thin-cut black leather cuff, a habit he’d gotten into. It was a small red B situated on the inside of his left wrist. He remembered when it first appeared - he’d been in his room doing homework when pain like that of a needle stabbed into his wrist, causing him to cry out in surprise. The pain had been almost unbearable at first but, thankfully, it had died down by the next afternoon, leaving just a Letter there.

The first few days of having the Letter had been irritating, to say the least. It was barely a tickle, but Kurt could feel it - a slight tug, like a string was attached to the mark. He had been constantly rubbing, scratching, itching at it in an attempt to alleviate the sensation with no luck. Soon enough, however, he’d gotten used to it, though he still preferred to keep himself distracted by sketching in his notebook.

He’d never told anyone how weak the pull was – actually, only the New Directions knew about the Letter, thanks to changing in close quarters for competitions (he supposed the cuff was a dead giveaway, but at least no one else seemed to notice – or care). But the idea that his soulmate, B (as Kurt had taken to calling him in his mind), was most likely somewhere in Ohio was infuriating. How often he’d imagined traveling the entire state, searching for that missing part of him - but it was impractical.

Really, this whole soulmate system was silly, Kurt thought. No wonder many people never found their partners. Looking for someone purely based on a single letter of their name and the strength of a pull was something that - in this world of minutes, seconds, even milliseconds - wasted precious time and energy.

“Fuck this,” Kurt muttered, turning the key in the ignition. He needed a break from Lima, and what better way to do that than to take Puck’s oh-so-kind advice to spy on Dalton? Kurt tapped the details into his GPS, determined that he could make it to the school around its last period of class, and headed home to change into something that might help him blend in.

It wasn’t long before Kurt was on the freeway, his Broadway playlist blasting in the car as he drove to Westerville. He felt increasingly sick, and wondered if he’d have to make a stop, but still he drove on. By the time he pulled into Dalton’s parking lot - and gaped for a few moments at the building - he was seriously reconsidering his decision. It felt as though there was something trying to claw its way out of his stomach, yet he felt it as though it was an echo of illness. It was there, but he wasn’t exactly incapacitated; he felt the symptoms without the usual lethargy or the sense of being a sort of flu zombie. It was the strangest thing Kurt had experienced since getting his Letter.

After some time, during which Kurt had tried to calm his stomach to no avail, he decided to go in. Once in the school's doors, Kurt quickly realized that his attempt at camouflage would be useless - there were uniforms everywhere. Slipping on his shades so he could avoid eye contact from confused students, he started down the hall to his right.

Walking down a spiral staircase, Kurt overheard two boys just in front of him talking about Warbler’s rehearsal. He stopped them at the bottom of the steps with a rushed “Excuse me,” and asked where he could find out more about the show choir.

“Well, we were supposed to have an impromptu performance today-“ one of them began, shaking his blonde hair out of his face. Kurt resisted the urge to mention that the term ‘impromptu’ generally suggested ‘unplanned.’

“-But our lead singer is stuck in his dorm, sick,” the other - shorter, with dark, wavy hair - finished. “You can come by the senior commons after school if you want, but you should probably wear your uniform. We don’t need anyone thinking you’re here to spy on us or something.”

“Wes might actually throw his gavel.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass,” Kurt said as they began to laugh. “I’m not feeling too well either.”

“Man, that sucks. Another day?” the blonde asked hopefully.

“Maybe,” Kurt said with a nervous smile. They nodded and waved at him as they walked away, and Kurt found himself wondering what it was like here. Aside from the odd suspicious glance, no one seemed to look twice at him. Those two guys didn’t even flinch at his voice, which had gone higher than usual under the pressure.

Then another wave of nausea came over him and Kurt figured it was pointless to stay any longer, so he slowly made his way back to the parking lot, unable to shake off the feeling that something was wrong.

_Probably just my stomach_ , Kurt thought uneasily, looking back at the building. He reached the Navigator, and the slam of the door as he got in startled him from his thoughts. With a sigh, he turned the key, huffing irritably when it took longer to start than usual. Soon enough - or maybe  _too_  soon - it rumbled to life, and Kurt drove out of the parking lot. He left the music off, simply driving in silence with nothing but his own mind for company. And it was miserable company.

One thing Kurt was grateful for was how his stomachache gradually ebbed away, soon disappearing altogether as he turned onto the final stretch towards Lima. However, he started to notice the pull on his wrist again, and he adjusted the cuff in a fruitless attempt to ease the sensation. Being at Dalton - with its tastefully muted colors and somewhat vintage feel - must have distracted him from his Letter, or maybe it was the odd phantom flu he'd experienced.

Kurt refused to think that the connection had actually faded away in Westerville. To do that would be to foster hope, something that he'd been slowly losing. He didn't want to be lifted too high, to put too much stock into what could easily have been a vague, fleeting daydream.

It'll hurt too much when he inevitably falls.

 

* * *

 

Blaine took a deep breath, his eyes closed and his heart beating fast. It was ridiculous how nervous he was; it was only Sectionals, after all, yet he felt like he had twice the usual jitters.

The Warblers had already performed their Train medley, and Blaine was confident that it had gone off without a hitch. Well, except for Nick's slight misstep -  _seriously, it's a two-step, it's_ not _that hard_  - but he doubted that any of the judges noticed. Blaine was now sitting in the audience with the rest of the group, waiting for the McKinley High New Directions to start performing. He'd heard about them, and he had to admit he was interested in seeing just how good they were.

"Hey. Blaine," Wes hissed from the row behind him. Blaine turned as the announcer started to recite an advertisement for Breadstix's rival pasta chain, Parma Sean's. "Are you actually oblivious to the entire universe?"

"What?"

"Your phone has been vibrating for the last five minutes."  _Shit._

Blaine took the phone out of his pocket, one glance at the screen telling him that he had three missed calls. All of them were from Cooper. Wary, Blaine opened up his messages to find just one new text - also from his brother.  
  
 **From:**  Cooper  
 _2010-11-26 19:18_  
hey squirt call me, it's an emergency  
  
Blaine didn't stop to think - he whispered a quick apology to the others and slipped into the aisle, all but sprinting to the door. He nearly knocked over someone standing just outside and ignored the offended huff that he heard behind him as he kept moving away. Blaine felt a strong twinge of annoyance at - what? The guy that  _he_  just practically bulldozed?

He shook off the thought; he could ponder any leftover irrational emotions later. For now, he found a secluded corner of the building and started a call to Cooper. The call rang through once, twice, three times and kept going. Blaine leaned heavily against the wall and sighed.

" _Hey, this is Cooper Anderson from - Free Credit Rating Today dot com! If you'd like to contact me about an audition or a role, please leave a message. Slash savings!_ "

"Of course," Blaine muttered. He hung up before the voicemail tone and tried again. This time it only rang twice before someone answered.

" _Hello?_ "

"Coop, it's me," Blaine said, relieved that it had only taken two calls this time.

" _Squirt! What's going on?_ "

"Don't call- You know what, nevermind. What's the emergency?" Blaine asked, anxious. He didn't wonder why Cooper didn't seem to know about Sectionals - his own parents didn't care, so why should his brother care?

" _Emergency?_ "

Blaine slipped down the wall so that he was sitting on the floor; he  _really_  wasn't in the mood for this today. He briefly considered just hanging up on Cooper before he heard his brother's voice again.

" _Squirt? Are you- Oh! Yeah, there's an emergency._ "

"... Well?"

" _I need your help with an audition I scored. Three words: Disney, animated, playful woodland creatures._ "

"Five words."

" _Whatever, will you help me out?_ " The line clicked as Blaine hung up. He knew it was a childish thing to do, to run from the problem like that - but then again, he always ran. Fighting meant losing; running meant safety.

Even if he felt like he lost a bit of himself every time he fled.

Blaine stayed there for a while longer before remembering that there was an awards ceremony to get to. Brushing away the single tear that had escaped, he hurried backstage. He found the Warblers there already, and clearly worried. Wes looked like he was about to send out a government search party.

"It's about damn time," Wes said quietly. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. Are they going to call us up?"

"Any second now."

"Let's reintroduce the competing groups," the announcer called, his voice muffled from backstage. "First we have the Dalton Warblers!"

Blaine nodded and led the way to the stage. He bumped into a boy wearing a deep maroon dress shirt that was slightly taller than him and felt a strange shock of nerves -  _probably just got startled or something_  - that nearly made him stumble. Instead, he kept his head down, muttering an apology as he made his way into the spotlight for the second time that night.

About ten minutes later, the Warblers ended up in second place and didn't qualify for Regionals. Blaine didn't feel as dejected as he would have thought - in fact, he felt almost buoyant and joyful. He supposed he was just happy for the New Directions, who were celebrating on the stage near them. From what he'd heard, they deserved this shot.

"They did a good job," Trent mused from beside Blaine.

"I missed it - what did they do?"

"One of the girls sang lead on Valerie while a couple of the others did a crazy dance routine. But the awesome part was the duet before that." Trent's eyes were wide; it must have been good. As the Warblers walked off the stage, Blaine prompted him to keep going. "Oh, these two guys sang (I've Had) The Time of My Life. There's one of them."

Trent pointed towards the New Directions, who were filing past the Warblers in good cheer. The person in question, a well-built guy with a shock of sandy blonde hair, looked up at Blaine and nodded, smiling cordially.

"The other one... Huh, I don't see him. He had an insane vocal range, though, I wish you could have heard him."

"Me too. Hey," Blaine said, raising his voice so all the Warblers could hear him. "Does Breadstix sound good for a second-place celebratory meal?"

The others all murmured their affirmation, and Blaine made a mental note to ask the bus driver to stop. Technically it wasn't allowed to make such a stop, but Dalton didn't exactly adhere to regular school standards anyways.

As they headed out the door to get to the bus, Blaine rubbed at his Letter, which was conveniently hidden under the uniform's right cuff. He hadn't felt it much that night - if at all - and he supposed he'd been too distracted to notice the tug. It was so weak, he couldn't always be sure whether or not he was just imagining that it had faded away.

Preoccupied with his thoughts, Blaine didn't even notice that anyone was speaking to him until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw a man - likely in his early forties - who wore a cap on top of his head and a flannel shirt. Blaine's first instinct was to flinch, but the man's eyes were kind, so he resisted.

"You guys did good," the man said, smiling. "Congrats."

"Oh- Thank you, sir," Blaine said. "The New Directions blew us out of the water, though."

"Yeah, they can do that sometimes. They're a crazy bunch, but they're good kids."

Before Blaine could ask how he knew the New Directions, Wes called him from the bus, looking distinctly irritated.

"If you're not on this bus in thirty seconds-"

"I'd better go," Blaine said, his expression apologetic. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it, kid. Go have fun, and good luck next year."

Blaine nodded, taking the hand that was offered to him and shaking it. He thanked the man again before turning to walk briskly towards the bus, shooting a glare at Wes. The guy was actually looking at his  _watch_ , for goodness' sake.

"You're a dictator," Blaine said to him as he climbed into the bus.

"I'm a leader, and so are you," Wes said loftily. "Which means you should be on the bus when the rest of us are on the bus."

"Whatever you say. To Breadstix, John," he added, addressing the bus driver. The vehicle shuddered as it started to move, and Blaine settled himself on one of the seats, exhausted.

He pulled his sleeve up by a few inches and stared at the K on his wrist, just as vibrant and clear as it had been that afternoon in the hospital. With a single finger, he traced the lines, a feeling of hopelessness threatening to break through his fragile shell. His soulmate was in Ohio, within 3 hours from Westerville at the most, and it was proving impossible to find him. Or her.

No,  _him_. Of that, at least, Blaine was sure.

There didn't seem to be any point in actively looking for this K person, considering the limitations of the Letter. Funny how it's meant to  _help_  in the process of finding one's soulmate, yet Blaine had no real way to search. Hiding his Letter under the sleeve again, Blaine decided he would try to live his life on his own. If he found K along the way, great, if not...

Well, he wasn't going to think about that just yet.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a world where soulmates exist but often never find each other, two teenage boys in Ohio soon give up on finding theirs. But when circumstances draw them too far apart for either of them to ignore, it’s only a matter of time, impulse, and a little bit of luck.

_This is it_ , Kurt thought, dropping his bags on the floor next to him. He watched, amused, as Rachel started talking a mile a minute about the space in front of him.

"I know it doesn't look like much right now but I think with your eye for interior design and my rock-solid determination we can turn this place into one of New York's finest," she said, walking around the empty loft. "What do you think?"

"I think I'm just amazed to finally be here. Rachel, we're actually in New York. You're going to NYADA, and I'm going to NYU, and it's almost everything we've ever dreamed of."

"I still wish you would have gone through with applying for NYADA," Rachel said sadly, returning to where Kurt was standing to take one of his hands. "I'm sure you would have made an impression."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Kurt said dismissively. "I didn't have enough extracurriculars for it."  _Or enough confidence._

"Kurt."

"Come on, Rach, we've talked about this. We're here now, that's all that matters, okay?" Rachel watched him for a few moments before she gave in with a shrug, smiling.

"Let's build our dream loft!"

Kurt and Rachel set about painting the walls first, though it was slow going since Rachel seemed determined to get paint on Kurt's skin. He dodged the brush again and again, performing a few evasive maneuvers that he's sure even Coach Beiste would be proud of.

"I am  _not_  a canvas," he said, avoiding her again. "You're the worst painter in the world." There was a thump above them and he looked up; Rachel took the opportunity to swipe her brush across his arm, from the heel of his palm up to his elbow.

"Aha!"

"Oh my god, you are so lucky I'm not wearing anything valuable," he muttered, examining the white streak on his left arm.

"Wait. Kurt, where's your cuff?" Rachel asked, confused.

"Oh, I took it off so I - or  _you_ , apparently - wouldn't get paint on it."

"It's just weird. You never take it off, and you haven't even told me what your Letter is."

Kurt considered that for a few seconds, then grabbed the roll of paper towels they had set aside for emergency cleanups. He rubbed the paint off of the inside of his wrist and tilted it so that Rachel could see.

"B... How long have you had it again?"

"Since sophomore year," Kurt sighed. He'd been trying to avoid talking about the Letter ever since the flight, when he'd noticed the tug growing stronger. Now it was clearly defined, Kurt feeling as though he was on a leash and he was straying just off the path. He could still ignore it, but it was easiest when he kept himself from thinking about it. "It's more annoying than anything."

"Can you feel him?"

"More so now that I'm out of Ohio."

"What?" Kurt looked at Rachel, who was wearing an appalled expression. "You mean your soulmate is in Ohio, and you never looked for him?"

"What's the point? I'd never have found him, and the whole thing is ridiculous anyways."

"Finding your other half isn't ridiculous," Rachel said softly, touching her wrist absently. She had yet to get her Letter, but she was old enough to be getting it any day now.

"It's perfectly possible to live a happy life without finding your soulmate. Love isn't defined by a Letter."

"But-"

"I'm sorry, Rach. I know you're excited to get yours, and I'm excited for you as well. I just don't think any of this really matters. How can I trust some stranger to bring me happiness when I can find it in what I already know?"

"I just don't think you really  _are_  happy, Kurt. Not as much as you could be." Rachel took the paper towels and started to wipe the rest of the paint off of his arm, giving him a look that could only be deciphered as  _You know I'm right_.

"We should keep painting," he said.

"You should learn to trust your instincts," she said, clearly unable to drop the subject. "That's all this is, anyways. Instinct, and impulse."

"If I say you're right and that I'll think about it, will you let it go?"

"Fine. I'm sorry for painting your arm, by the way."

"Apology accepted, Ms. Berry." Rachel laughed as she put her brush back in one of the paint trays.

"Mr. Hummel, shall we take a cheesecake break?" she asked, a knowing look in her eyes.

"You know me too well. Let's go," he said, pulling off his old McKinley High T-shirt before walking off to find something decent to wear among his still-packed luggage. "You know, we don't have anywhere separate to change."

"Oh, you can change here, I don't mind."

"Rachel."

"What?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"Turn around."

"Oh.  _Oh._  Yeah, I'll just- Sorry." She turned to face the wall, humming something that sounded like For Good. In spite of himself, Kurt joined in, the memory of their first Nationals trip still fresh in their minds. Pulling on one of his nicer pairs of jeans and a comfortable-yet-fashionable shirt, he edged over to Rachel, giving her a hug from behind and laughing when she squeaked in surprise.

"Cheesecake time."

"Finally."

As they left the apartment and climbed down the stairs - the elevator seemed a bit too rickety for either of them to dare to use it - Kurt started thinking about his Letter again. He'd have to learn to stop rubbing at it by habit and start finding new ways to occupy himself now that the pull was stronger and more insistent.

He knew that Rachel wondered why he never took off his cuff. It wasn't like he was abnormally young to have the mark anymore, after all - he was nineteen. His excuse was that it was easier to ignore the sensation when something was covering it.

If he was completely honest with himself, however, he kept it hidden because every time he saw that little red B on his wrist, he was reminded of something that had slipped away from him. Kurt knew he'd never find B, not now that he was in a different state, and it hurt too much to wonder about what could have been. And what will never be.

 

* * *

 

  
Blaine was having a terrible day.

No, actually, he was having a terrible  _week_.

It had started on a Saturday, when the tickle in his right wrist gradually grew stronger until it was a steady tug. Far from it being a lot harder to keep from continuously adjusting his cuff - simple, thin-cut brown leather - he knew that the growing intensity of the dragging sensation meant that his soulmate (who he'd taken to calling "angel" due to the way the mark reminded him that he wasn't alone) was moving away from him.

Even though he'd long since given up on actually finding his soulmate, his angel, the tug of the Letter had been grounding for him. Something to hold on to when his parents left him home alone for days on end to go on a cruise, or when his brother called to tell him all about himself, or when the Warblers ignored his protests to return to song choices that retained their traditional classiness.

But now it just reminded him that K, whoever he was, was farther away now. Most likely he'd left the state itself, and gone who-knows-where. It wasn't comforting, regardless of how many times Blaine told himself that they'd never meet anyways.

The week had gotten progressively worse after that. There was a new Warbler, Hunter Clarington, and he was Blaine's polar opposite as a leader. Condescending, outspoken, and careless, his personality was the icing on top of Blaine's terrible week. At first it seemed that Hunter wouldn't be too much of a problem - he generally listened to Blaine and went along with him, clearly relying on Blaine's honorable reputation. But he was restless.

"Warblers! We need something to tip us over the edge at Sectionals this year," he'd announced during the third meeting of the week.

"Uh, I'm pretty sure the Council needs to know what you're planning first," Blaine said, nonplussed.

"It'll be fine. We just need to step up our dancing game to give us a surefire advantage over those McKinley people. That means we need more strength and endurance. That means we need  _this_." Hunter had pulled out a small needle, and Blaine had been completely clueless.

"What-"

"Steroids, Blaine," Sebastian said. "I'm in."

Blaine glared at Sebastian, earning a noncommittal shrug in return. The previous year had been a bit of a roller coaster; he and Sebastian had had a bit of an on-and-off...  _thing_. Blaine didn't think he could call it a relationship, exactly, as their contact had been limited to dancing at Scandals and getting each other off in one of their cars afterwards.

He'd thought that maybe Sebastian wanted more - sometimes he caught an oddly tender expression on his face - but then something would snap and Sebastian would return to his rude, insulting self. They were friends to some extent, but sometimes it was just too much for Blaine.

"That's cheating and we aren't going to resort to it," Blaine said firmly. The next day, however, Trent had met Blaine in the hallway with news.

"They're doing the steroid stuff behind your back," he said. "They tried to get me into it, but I don't think it's right."

One thing led to another, and now Blaine was storming away from the senior commons, having tried and failed at putting the rest of the group off of the drug. His own statement rang through his brain, playing on a loop.

"I quit."

He never thought he'd actually quit the Warblers. They were almost like family.

_No_ , he thought, closing the door to his dorm behind him.  _The Warblers from two years ago were my family._

He didn't think it was wrong of him to quit, but Blaine started to regret letting go of something that had at least held some semblance of togetherness for him. He knew that many of the guys would defend him in a heartbeat, even - no, _especially_  Sebastian. With the Warblers, he was a part of something.

Now he was floating free, and it seemed like the tugging in his wrist was only serving to pull him further away from himself. He was lost.

"Hey, are you okay?" Blaine looked up to see Trent standing in the doorway, looking timid.

"I'm fine," Blaine answered automatically. Trent looked at him doubtfully and he sighed, resigned. "No, I'm not."

"I quit too, by the way. They're all being assholes." Blaine laughed in spite of himself, patting the space next to him on the bed for Trent to sit.

"It's just... why do they feel like they have to do all of this? We're fine sticking to the clean and honest stuff. They're just going to get themselves caught."

"Honesty is pretty hard to come by these days. It's like chivalry."

"The Warblers of Dalton Castle, saving the fair maidens of Allen County with song," Blaine said, grinning at Trent, who laughed.

"Or the fair knights," he said, winking. "Do you think you'll ever find your guy?"

"You mean any guy or him?" Blaine asked, indicating the cuff.

"No, the janitor. Of course I mean him."

"You're hilarious. I don't really think so," Blaine said. "I thought there was a chance, but now it's just easier to pretend that there isn't a hope for me because my chances are way too slim."

"You've got the same odds as everyone else," Trent pointed out.

"And they don't look too good."

"Point taken."

"I'm just tired of being alone," Blaine muttered, mostly to himself. There wasn't anyone he could give himself to, body and soul, and he despised it. He had plenty of time, of course, but he doubted he would find anyone that would deal with him.  _Emotional baggage drags everyone down with it_ , he thought bitterly. Clingy and needy and desperate - god, he was a wreck.

"Blaine?"

"Hm?"

"I just want you to know that I'm up for listening if you need someone to talk to. Even if you think it's stupid," Trent added when Blaine opened his mouth to respond. "Look, I gotta go, but I'll talk to you later?"

"Sounds great. Thank you," Blaine said honestly, hoping that he came off as sincere.

"No problem."

Once Trent left, Blaine changed into a pair of lounge pants and a T-shirt, content to turn in early or at least take a nap. He locked the door and took off the cuff, staring at the red mark that appeared as though it was drawn neatly with a red pen. There was nothing he could see that indicated the pull he felt; the Letter sat there on his wrist, as innocuous as ever.

For a moment, he  _hated_  it. He hated the way it tried to take him somewhere he would never be able to find. He hated the way it reminded him that there was someone out there that was meant for him. His angel, about as accessible as Heaven itself.

Blaine sighed, running his thumb over the Letter. He had to resign himself to life on his own, there was no avoiding that fact. Not unless he wanted to scour the country - maybe even the entire world - for a single person. One among millions. It was impossible.

Maybe he'd find someone else, someone that could make him happy and be his future even without the added connection of the Letter. The thought put a bad taste in his mouth, and he turned off the lights.

_You're never going to find him_ , he told himself.  _Get over it._

However, how he could get over the loss of an entire half of himself - one he'd never found in the first place - was a mystery.


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a world where soulmates exist but often never find each other, two teenage boys in Ohio soon give up on finding theirs. But when circumstances draw them too far apart for either of them to ignore, it’s only a matter of time, impulse, and a little bit of luck.

"Kurt, can you tell me what the date is today?"

"August 24th, 2013. Why?"

"Because that means you've gone almost the entire summer without going home once," Rachel said, stepping in front of him to block his view of the TV. "Your dad must be worried sick."

"He knows I'm fine, I taught him how to Skype," Kurt said dismissively, resigning himself to missing part of Real Housewives to talk to her. At least it was a rerun.

"You could have gone home with me two weeks ago," she continued. "It's not like we're from different parts of the country."

"No, but I was busy. Work."

"You could have taken a few days off. You don't have to work yourself to death, you know."

Kurt sighed. "That's why I'm using today to catch up on as much brainless reality TV as I can, as a stress reliever."

"Kurt, I'm serious!"

"I am too, Rach. I wish I could go home, but I can't. I need to save money for next semester's books and supplies, and I just don't have the time."  _I can't risk tricking myself into thinking I can find him, either. Because it's impossible. Because it'll hurt too much if I'm forced to accept that._

"Alright, I guess if there's no hope in convincing you that you're effectively shutting yourself away from your own family-"

"Rachel, get this into your head. I love my dad, I love Carole, and I even love Finn. Just because I don't get to see them doesn't mean I don't care about them." The conversation was starting to wear on Kurt's patience, and he knew that it showed in his expression - not that he particularly cared at the moment.

"But-" Kurt abruptly got up from the couch and headed for the kitchen, where his phone sat on the counter. He put it in his pocket and turned to Rachel, gesturing towards the door.

"I need some air. That's code for 'alone time,'" he added when she moved to follow him. She nodded; at least she looked regretful, and Kurt very nearly gave up on his storm-out. But then he felt an especially strong tug in his wrist, and he took that as his cue to leave.

He made his way down the hall of the apartment building, deciding on a whim to take the stairs up to the rooftop. He wasn't technically allowed up there, but no one had ever directly denied him. Actually, he was pretty sure that whatever security cameras there might have been no longer worked.

He opened the door, reveling in a slight breeze that barely provided relief from the sun's heat. Kurt momentarily thought about returning to the loft to put on sunscreen, but he decided against it, choosing instead to sit against the ledge in the large patch of shade provided by a neighboring building. 

Kurt felt high-strung, anxious, as if he was running late for something, which made no sense. He'd had no plans for the day except to lounge around the apartment -  _so much for that_ , he thought bitterly.

Though, as he thought about it, Rachel did have his best interests in mind. She usually did when she wasn't after something for herself, after all, and even those cases were getting scarce as she matured. Kurt had to admit that he probably  _should_  have gone home at some point over the summer. He just didn't think he could deal with feeling the pull weaken so much as to almost disappear again, not now that he'd gotten used to the way it is now. It would give him false hope.

That still wasn't a fair reason not to visit the people he loves.

He took his phone out of his pocket and started a new call.

" _Hello?_ "

"Dad, hi," he said, breathless though he didn't know why.

" _Hey kiddo, what's going on? The city still treating you right?_ "

Kurt laughed; Burt asked that every time they spoke. And every time Kurt answered the same way: "Like an impoverished prince waiting in line for the throne."

" _One of these days I'll ask you that and you'll say that you've been made king._ " Kurt could see him now; sitting in his armchair, ESPN on the television screen but muted because "I don't care if the damn news station is reporting that the States are splitting into separate countries - there's nothing on that screen more important to me than hearing my son's voice."

"God, I hope so," Kurt muttered, thinking about his upcoming classes and the slew of of opportunities sure to come with the new semester.

" _So is there something you wanted to talk about?_ "

"Well, I-" Kurt hesitated.  _No time, no money, can't handle it,_ god _you're a mess right now._  "- I just wanted to ask how you're doing." Smooth.

" _I don't believe you, but we're fine over here. Carole's trying to teach Finn how to bake a cake or something, I think._ "

"Well, if I hear that the house has gone up in flames, at least I'll know why." Kurt knew that his dad was itching to ask him directly what was wrong, and he braced himself for it as they went on to talk about other inconsequential things. From Finn's children's league flag football team and the crazy customer Burt had dealt with at the shop last week to Carole's ever-improving eye for fashion, nearly every trivial subject imaginable came up.

But not once did Burt ask what was wrong, and Kurt realized that he'd have no answer even if he did ask. Truth be told, he was ashamed. Ashamed that he'd let something like the Letter play a part in manipulating his life even after he'd practically sworn against it.

They said their farewells, Kurt a bit regretfully, and the line clicked dead.

He sighed as he tipped his head back against the concrete ledge, looking out over the opposite edge of the building. The sun was setting and the colors flashing brilliantly, reflecting off the many windows he could see and lending a sort of ethereal magic to the city. He smiled; this was the New York he loved.

Another forceful tug, and the moment vanished as Kurt pulled off his cuff in frustration. The Letter looked just the same as ever, and that irritated him for some reason. He didn't have much time to dwell on that though; he felt it again, stronger this time, and something in him began to panic. There wasn't anything he could do, though, except watch the sun set as the sensation grew in strength.

_Please don't go_ , a quiet voice pleaded in the back of his mind, far from his resolve and his fairly steadfast decision to avoid the matter entirely. He had to wonder if maybe it was from his heart.

 

* * *

 

" _Are you at the airport yet?_ "

"Coop, I'm already sitting on the plane. Have you been listening to me at all?"

" _Oh, sorry Sq- I mean, Champ. Little man?_ "

"I believe in your ability to come up with a suitable brotherly nickname for me, but we're going to take off soon."

"Alright _, alright. I'll meet you when you land. Do you need me to carry one of those big signs?_ "

"Your overblown head is good enough for me."

" _Ha, funny. See you later, Koda!_ "

"Did you just-" The line clicked, leaving Blaine taken aback. "He just referenced Brother Bear," he muttered to himself. Blaine glanced up as the flight attendant began to speak, going over the emergency procedures as per usual. He shut off his phone after checking his email one last time and started to listen without really taking in a single word that was said.

He was about to leave Ohio, probably for good. No,  _definitely_  for good - he had no intention of ever returning to his parents' house. His mother understood and already told him that she would visit as often as she could; it went without saying that she would do so on her own. Blaine sighed, feeling a smile start to quirk at the corner of his mouth. He was leaving, he was getting out, he was no longer tethered to any part of that state and its inhabitants. He was free.

Well, sort of.

Blaine flexed his right wrist without looking at it, consciously aware of the Letter for the first time in weeks, and wondered if he would be going towards or away from K, his angel. He shook his head; that kind of thinking never did him any good.

He'd done away with the cuff after graduation, his distress at his soulmate being a considerable distance away having mostly abated since quitting the Warblers. The Letter was just a letter, or so he told himself. In reality, he liked being able to just look down and see it there. Just knowing that there's someone out there for him, whether they meet or not, was oddly comforting. Blaine chuckled self-deprecatingly as he realized that he'd come full circle, in a way. Not that he hurt any less, just that he was more numb to it.

The plane took off soon after, the momentary feeling of weightlessness drawing a smile from Blaine. Then it leveled out and gravity returned, the seatbelt light turning off with a low beep. A short message from the pilot crackled through the speakers before the passengers began to chatter quietly amongst themselves. Blaine, who had a window seat and was sitting next to an older couple, grinned to himself as they started to talk about their grandchildren.

"I can't believe little Shannon has grown so big," the woman exclaimed fondly, shaking her head. "Used to be I could pick her up and we'd dance around the room."

"It's just crazy how time flies," the man said as he nodded. "Son, do you see your family much?"

Blaine did a double take as he realized that the guy was talking to him.

"Uh- Well, I just graduated, so I'm in the process of moving out sort of as we speak," he said.

"Hmph. Are you close with them?"

"I'm closest to my brother, who I'm meeting later, but... not really," Blaine admitted. He was wary of the entire conversation; it seemed a bit personal for something like a casual in-flight exchange. Then again, he had nothing to hide regarding his family - there wasn't much there in the first place.

"Let me tell you something, young man," the woman chipped in from the aisle seat. Blaine nodded, eyes wide. "Don't let the people you care about get too far away."

"She's right," added the man. "And don't tell me there isn't anyone you care about that much, either, because everybody's got someone they'd go to the ends of the Earth for. The problem is, most people're too scared to put in that kind of effort."

"O-okay," Blaine said, realizing he probably looked like a bobblehead doll by the way he kept nodding. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm Anne, and this is Stanley."

"Blaine," he responded, shaking each of their hands in turn. "It's nice to meet you."

"You as well," Stanley grunted, giving Blaine a tip of his hat that gave him a clear view of the man's wrist, where a small black A was printed. The sight made his heart jump for some reason, and his wrist felt a strong tug. "Where are you headed?"

"Los Angeles," Blaine answered. "My brother is letting me live with him while I take classes at California State."

"I wish you good luck, then," Anne said kindly, a smile gracing her soft features.

"Thanks," Blaine said again, more sincerely this time; he couldn't help but smile as well.

The couple talked to Blaine for a short while longer before Stanley mentioned that he was about to fall asleep.

"'M not as young as I used to be. Don't worry, son; I don't snore," he said with a wink.

Once he was asleep, Blaine took an old, worn book from his bag and started to read. He only managed about half a page before he had to stop, the pull in his wrist steadily swelling into something that felt more like he was being forcibly dragged. He grimaced; whoever K was, he must have been on the opposite side of the country.

He soon gave up on reading entirely since the sensation, growing stronger in pulsing waves, made it next to impossible to focus. How he was going to get used to this, he wasn't sure, but Blaine knew he had no choice. He wasn't going back to Ohio, and he certainly didn't have the means to travel farther east.

Blaine pressed the inside of his wrist to the cold metal on the inside wall of the plane, not as much to relieve the pull as to give his arm something to do. He mentally cursed himself as he remembered that he hadn't brought along his notebook; Blaine had found, over the course of his senior year, that writing music was the best way to distract himself when his Letter became particularly aggravating. All he had was the small airplane window, through which he could see an infinite, rolling ocean of clouds.

For a moment he let himself imagine that he could see his soulmate among the abstract formations. His angel, hidden away in endless sky.

It hit him then that he really, truly  _cared_  about K. Blaine felt guilty that it was his attack that had brought the marks on early; a painful experience for him and, as he'd been told, for his soulmate as well. He also felt guilty for leaving, for strengthening the pull on both ends. He had no idea how the other person felt about this turn of events, but Blaine had a feeling that it was confusing for him. Maybe even worrying.

For a moment, Blaine entertained the fantasy of turning around as soon as he got to L.A., taking a flight to the East Coast and finding a job over there. That way he'd at least be closer to K. But he knew he couldn't do it.

Aside from not having the money or the resolve to do such a thing, he knew he had to control his own impulses. Being closer could lead him to try to find K, which was a set-up for disappointment. Blaine had no reason to believe that he would just run into his soulmate one day on the way to work, or even on an active search.

This way, there was still hope. Hope on the very edge of being lost, hope never to be acted upon, but hope nonetheless. Blaine was fine with being alone as long as he had that. As the invisible tether stretched across the country, surely growing stiff and rigid, a voice echoed in the back of his head.

_"Don't let the people you care about get too far away."_  Blaine shook the thought away; he couldn't afford to let himself think like that. He had to preserve the slightest bit of light he could find in the situation.

After all, without that hope, he would be completely, utterly alone, falling over the edge into blackness.


	5. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a world where soulmates exist but often never find each other, two teenage boys in Ohio soon give up on finding theirs. But when circumstances draw them too far apart for either of them to ignore, it’s only a matter of time, impulse, and a little bit of luck.

**From:**  Chase Young  
 _2014-02-21 14:29_  
Call me?

Kurt smiled at his phone, subconsciously sidestepping a gaggle of excited teenage tourists as he headed for a deserted bench in Washington Square. Sitting down, he took a moment to look around at the crowded space - at the film students carrying cameras, at the shady figures lurking just on the edge, and at the couples of all ages scattered about.

Many people wore cuffs like Kurt, though a few seemed to have no qualms about sharing their Letter; he spotted a dark-skinned woman in a light, lime-green jacket who had her left sleeve pinned up so that the letter T was visible for all to see. She noticed him staring and winked, giving him a friendly wave which he returned after a moment's hesitation.

Before he could get distracted by any more of New York's individuals, Kurt started a new call. It rang a few times and he started to worry - after all, it wouldn't be the first time this guy had left him hanging. He was relieved when he finally heard Chase's voice.

_"Hey, Kurt!"_

"Hi," Kurt said, suppressing a giggle at the exuberance of Chase's greeting. "Are we still on for tonight?"

_"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about,"_  Chase said, sounding anxious.  _"An old buddy called and asked me if I could help him move into his new apartment. Guess he didn't think about hiring help."_

"Oh. Well, that's fine, we can meet up another day."

_"How about right now?"_

"Now?" Kurt checked the time and realized he had no more classes for the day and no immediate plans. He had been thinking about going home to take a nap, but that could wait another few hours. "Where?"

_"Uh..."_  Kurt rolled his eyes fondly.  _Of course he has no idea._

"I can meet you at Common Ground?" he suggested, remembering their first date at that very same coffeehouse. He'd enjoyed it immensely, even though Chase had admitted that he wasn't the biggest fan of coffee. Luckily, they also had decent teas on the menu.

_"Common..."_  Kurt closed his eyes, dearly hoping that Chase hadn't forgotten the location of their first date, of all things.  _"Oh! Yeah, that sounds great. Three-thirty?"_

"Three-thirty," Kurt agreed. They said their farewells and Kurt hung up first, stretching his arms as he stood up from the bench. The little coffeehouse wasn't far from the square, so he decided to take advantage of the oddly warm weather and just walk there.

The walk was strangely calm; few people were around and Kurt decided that he liked it. That is, until he realized he no longer had the people around him as distractions - he became acutely aware of the almost aching pull in his wrist and Kurt glared down at it, at the innocent red Letter he knew was hidden under the cuff.

" _God_ , B, just leave me alone," he muttered, though there was no venom in his tone - just worn-out exasperation. The past few months had been incredibly taxing on him, the mark keeping Kurt awake so often that he'd had to resort to (organic) sleep aids. Still, he remained fairly optimistic, particularly after meeting Chase at a party he'd been dragged to. More than a little tipsy and admittedly lonely, Kurt had ended up locked in a bedroom with him, and the rest was history. Chase had turned out to be quite sweet, though Kurt sometimes cringed at his fashion choices. And he wasn't always reliable, but Chase had promised to work on that.

Kurt thought this could be it.

He reached Common Ground and pushed the door open, smiling a bit at the sudden warmth and the relaxing smell of coffee. There wasn't a line - there never was - so he stepped right up to the counter to order. The barista at the cash register perked up immediately upon seeing Kurt.

"You're back! Thank god, I was getting worried that your Letter had yanked you right out of the city," she said, and Kurt laughed. Tracy never seemed to be bothered by the social stigma of talking about Letters in public, and it was refreshing (even if Kurt did resent being reminded of it). "Anyways, let me guess: Grande nonfat mocha with caramel?"

"You know me too well," Kurt said, grinning.

"You come here too often," Tracy shot back. "Do you mind if the newbie takes a shot at your order?"

"It's fine with me." Tracy nodded and shooed him away, grumbling about people always feeling like they have to stand in front of her counter for minutes on end.

Kurt took his usual spot near the window, where he could watch for Chase. He was still about fifteen minutes early, so he took out his phone as he waited for his coffee. It wasn't long before a nervous-looking boy - he appeared to be a teenager - walked up to him with a cup in hand.

"Uh- Hi, you ordered a medium drip with peppermint?" Kurt frowned, shaking his head. "Oh wow, I'm sorry, I'll just take this-"

"You know what, don't even worry about it," Kurt said kindly. "I'll take it. It's an opportunity to try something new, hm?"

"Yeah! Yeah, totally, here." He handed Kurt the paper cup, and Kurt could already smell the peppermint. It was different, new, but he sort of liked the change. "Sorry again."

"Hey, it's fine, we all make mistakes."

"Cool. Um, I'll be up there if you... yeah." The boy scurried back to the counter and Kurt couldn't resist smiling. He was adorable - flustered, but adorable. His contentment quickly passed, however, as his wrist continued to bother him. He sighed, taking a sip of the coffee and finding that it was a suitable alternative to his nonfat mocha.

An hour and a half later, the cup was empty and cold, and Kurt was thoroughly irritated - but it wasn't because of the Letter this time.

_"Hel-"_

"Where the fuck are you?" Kurt asked.

_"I'm at home... shit."_

"That's all you can say?"

_"I'm_ sorry _, baby, what do you want me-"_

"Please stop," Kurt said, every other incident like this running through his brain and firing up his courage enough to say the next two words. Like a Band-Aid, quick and painless. Well, maybe not _that_ painless. "We're done."

_"Kurt..."_

"Bye, Chase." Kurt hung up and hoped that he wouldn't try to call back. He didn't. And it hurt a little bit, that Chase didn't even try to fight to get him back. Inconsequential, forgettable, easily replaceable - that was Kurt Hummel.

He didn't leave Common Ground right away - a sad shake of the head to Tracy let her know that he'd be staying, and she was at his table with his regular order in minutes.

"I can take some time away if you want to talk," she said quietly.

"I'll be fine, thank you." If Kurt had a dollar for every time he remembered saying that, he was pretty sure he'd have a small fortune.

"I don't believe you, but I'll leave you alone. That's on the house, by the way," Tracy added as she turned away.

Kurt gratefully took a sip of his mocha, but it wasn't as comforting as it usually was. It tasted the same, just as delicious as ever, but it was missing something, somehow. Kurt grabbed the empty cup that was still sitting on the table and leaned towards the garbage can to throw it away - but he stopped when he smelled the peppermint again. That sharp, clear scent that he associated with Christmas and family. And something else, but he couldn't put his finger on what that could be.

Shrugging, he threw it away. Then - after taking off his cuff - he stared at the Letter. He wasn't sure why, exactly, he felt the sudden desire to pay attention to it. It tugged and pulled; he could swear that B was all the way across the  _country_  or something from the strength of it. Maybe he needed a break, needed to get out of the city for a little while. He could visit his family and revel in a (hopefully) weaker pull for some time in Ohio. Rachel was right, too; he was getting overworked.

So it was that Kurt found himself searching for decently-priced plane tickets and rearranging his schedule around his spring break. Kurt Hummel was going back to Ohio, and he had no idea what made him so sure that it would help him feel better. Maybe it wouldn't, but he had to try.

It wasn't like B was still there, anyways.

 

* * *

 

"Blainey, we're going out!"

"I have homework, I can't go anywhere right now."

"I'm not taking no for an answer. Just get your ass into some nice pants and come with me for dinner."

That was how Blaine found himself being dragged off to some dingy restaurant in a shady corner of L.A., Cooper practically waxing poetic about the history of the place, most of which Blaine was pretty sure was untrue. He'd ordered a salad, having already eaten at home. Cooper, on the other hand, had ordered a massive steak, medium rare, and a baked potato that didn't look thoroughly baked at all.

"Coop, don't you have a girlfriend?" Blaine finally asked after he had to watch his brother flirt with yet another of the waitresses that kept hustling past them.

"Not anymore," Cooper grumbled, his face falling. "I found her in Andy's bed when I went over there last week -  _with_  Andy."

"Oh, god, I'm sorry," Blaine said. Cooper didn't take that sort of thing well in any way, shape, or form. He liked attention and, when it turned out that someone else was taking attention from him, he was brokenhearted. Blaine understood and had come to accept this about his brother in the few months they'd been living together now.

"It's cool, don't worry about me," Cooper reassured him. "I'm not going to let it get me down."

"Good!"

"And here's the part of our brotherly dinner date where I ask you if you've got anyone lusting after your admittedly handsome Anderson features."

"I- No?" Blaine said, bewildered at the change of topic.

"Are you sure? You're blushing," Cooper said smugly. "There's a guy, isn't there?"

"No! No, there is no guy," Blaine said, exasperated. "I told you, I don't plan on dating anyone."

"Oh, come on, there has to at least be a one-night stand that stood out."

"Sorry to disappoint you."

"Have you even had any one-night stands?" Cooper asked, genuinely curious. "You're always at the apartment when you're not at school."

"A couple," Blaine admitted. He wouldn't admit, however, that he generally despised them. Sex was fine, fantastic actually, but that was it. There wasn't anything more than that, and it bothered him. He wanted more, even as he knew he wouldn't take anything less than his angel.

_Stop thinking about him_ , he thought. But, of course, it was useless.

"Really? You must be sneaky," Cooper said, eyebrows raised. "I've never heard you leaving or coming back at weird times."

"That's because you're not at home most of the time," Blaine pointed out, sticking his fork up at Cooper. "You've got your own things to worry about." Cooper sighed.

"Look, Blaine. Buddy, look at me." He did. "I miss you, man."

"What do you mean?"

"I miss us being brothers like when we were kids. I miss you being able to tell me anything and everything you were thinking, even if I might have thought it was stupid."

"You thought a lot of things were stupid." Cooper laughed, shaking his head.

"Well, that's because I  _was_  stupid. I left you with our parents and no one else and I don't like that. I want us to be real brothers, Blaine, not just two guys sharing an apartment like we are now."

"Really?"

"I mean everything I'm saying right now, and it's kind of scaring me how sentimental I'm being."

"I'd like that, though. Being brothers, I mean," Blaine said, smiling for the first time since they'd arrived at the restaurant.

"Awesome! Okay, so, first conversation as actual brothers: soulmate talk." Blaine nearly choked on a crouton at that point, eyes watering as he glared at Cooper from across the table.

"Are we really going to talk about this  _now_?" he asked, wincing as he became aware of the sensation again. He couldn't stay distracted for the life of him since moving to L.A., and it was affecting his schoolwork. What would have taken him half an hour back in Westerville was taking two hours here, due to having to focus through being constantly reminded that he was about 2,800 miles from his soulmate. He checked.

"Yes. There's nobody around and you've never talked to me about that little K there," Cooper said. "And I've never talked to you about my Letter, either."

"You first."

"Well, it's not pretty in pink like yours-"

"This is red, actually."

"Same deal. I'll show you mine." Cooper took off the wristwatch he wore on his left arm, holding his wrist up so that Blaine could see the black S etched into his skin.

"Have you ever tried to find her?" Blaine asked suddenly, his curiosity piqued.

"Oh, yeah. She's not around here, though," Cooper said, shrugging. "The feeling doesn't bother me anymore, so there's no point trying."

"How can it not bother you?" Blaine was even more interested now; if he could find a way to stop his Letter from being so irritating, he could finally get the damn soulmate stuff out of his conscious mind for good.

"I don't know," Cooper said thoughtfully. "Maybe it's because I stopped caring. I'm never going to find her, and that's okay. I'm sure she's doing fine."

Blaine was surprised by the simplicity of it. Then he thought about it, and realized he couldn't just stop caring. K, whoever he was, was Blaine's protector, his silent supporter, his angel. There wasn't a reason in the world that would make Blaine stop caring.

"How about you, little bro? What's the story behind your Letter?"

"There isn't much to say except that it's on the other wrist and it's red."

"And it appeared early," Cooper reminded him, as if he needed reminding of  _that_. "What about distance?"

"... Somewhere on the opposite side of the country," Blaine mumbled, bracing himself. Cooper's mouth dropped into a perfect 'O.'

"Are you kidding? What are you doing here?" he asked, aghast.

"Going to school," Blaine said uncertainly. Cooper opened his mouth to say something, but Blaine continued. "I'm not going to disappoint myself by trying to find him, okay?"

"But how do you know you  _won't_  find him?"

"I just won't, alright? Things don't work out that way for me. I'm perfectly fine with knowing that he exists."

"But he's your soulmate," Cooper said, uncharacteristically quiet.

"You have one too," Blaine said bitterly. "But you're able to just not care about her, while I can't possibly forget about the guy that saved me without ever meeting me."

"Saved you?"

"You said it yourself, Coop.  _You_  left me alone." Blaine hadn't meant to say it, at least not as rudely as he did. He took in Cooper's deeply regretful last glance as he got up from the table, leaving some cash in the middle for payment. Blaine had never seen Cooper so crestfallen, and he didn't say anything as his brother started to walk away.

"I'll see you at home, Blaine."

Blaine leaned back in his chair, running his hand over his face.  _So much for trying to be brotherly_ , he thought. He decided that Cooper probably needed some space to think, so Blaine stayed in the restaurant, ordering a dessert - cheesecake in favor of his usual sundae.

He thought about his mother, who hadn't called once since he left Ohio. Blaine thought about going to visit, despite his resolution to never go back there. But he had a feeling it would be a good idea. He could see his mother, politely acknowledge his father, and give Cooper some time alone. Or Cooper could go with him, if he wanted.

All of this didn't seem like enough reason to go back, though. As Blaine worked his way through the cheesecake, he wondered at the sudden impulse. Normally he would have fought against his instincts; they hadn't been kind to him in the past, and he had no reason to believe that being in Ohio would change anything.

Blaine sighed, pushing the empty plate away at last. He made a mental note to ask Cooper if he was free during Blaine's spring break, and finally accepted that he was actually going through with this.

_Ohio, here I come._


	6. Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a world where soulmates exist but often never find each other, two teenage boys in Ohio soon give up on finding theirs. But when circumstances draw them too far apart for either of them to ignore, it’s only a matter of time, impulse, and a little bit of luck.

_I'm going insane._

Kurt ran his hands through his hair as he waited for Finn to meet him at the front door of their house before his fingers returned to his cuff, picking at it absently. He was impatient; Finn had slept through his alarm and was hurriedly getting dressed. In his impatience, Kurt tugged at his cuff in a weak imitation of the Letter's effect, which had been diminished since he'd arrived in Ohio a week ago. In fact, he could hardly feel it at all.

It was frustrating. Kurt found himself aching for that pull, the one he'd been wishing to escape from for so long. The tether had gone slack, leaving Kurt with a sense of emptiness. That connection was - dare he say it? It was home.

Now he was wandering, detached, and he _hated_  it.

B was in Ohio, Kurt was sure of it. He was also sure that he couldn't go looking for him, not after being so adamant about disregarding the Letter and all it entailed. Besides, he was in Ohio to visit his family and to relax, not to hunt down a person that he'd never even seen in his entire life.

"Finn, if you're not down here in ten seconds I'm taking your car and you can play hide-and-seek with it in the airport parking lot!"

"Whoa, okay, I'm almost ready," Finn's voice called from upstairs. "And it's a  _truck_."

"Real trucks can actually pull weight. That little thing can hardly carry you and me," Kurt said as he heard Finn's footsteps finally thundering down the stairs. Finn himself appeared not long after, frowning.

"Don't insult her," he said, offended.

" _She_  is a hunk of rusted metal that runs on a frightening amount of gas. Barely."

"Whatever, let's go."

"Thank you."

Kurt gave Finn a mock curtsy as he allowed his stepbrother to go out the door first, and grinned when Finn stuck his tongue out at him. Soon they were both in the tiny grey truck that was Finn's first major purchase with his own income, Kurt trying his hardest not to make another jab at it. Okay, maybe it wasn't  _that_  hard; he was proud of Finn, actually.

"What station?" Finn asked, his hand on the dial.

"Oh no, I remember the last time we tried to agree on radio music," Kurt answered, grabbing his earphones. "I brought my own."

"Oh yeah, good idea."

It wasn't long until they were on the freeway, Kurt humming along with his Wicked playlist and Finn visibly resisting the urge to play the air guitar as he listened to his own music. He wasn't sure, but Kurt thought that the pull was growing weaker with every mile.

 _Stop that_ , he thought.  _It's probably just your imagination._

About two hours or so later, they were in Columbus, Finn pulling the little truck into the drop-off lane and glancing over at Kurt as he put it in park. Kurt, who had his fingers wrapped around his wrist, over the cuff, and was looking strained.

"Dude, are you okay?" Finn asked, worried.

"I'm fine."

"Kurt, I know you, and you're not okay," Finn insisted. "Is there something wrong with New York?"

"No, of course not, I love it there. It's-"  _not home, not really, not yet._  "It's great."

"You'll tell me if there's a problem? You know," Finn muttered awkwardly. "If you want my help." Kurt couldn't help but smile, still amazed at how much Finn had changed since the first two years of high school.

"Of course. I just don't think you could help me with the current, um, situation," Kurt said, moving to open the door. "I'll call when I land, okay?"

"Okay. Hey, Kurt?"

"Yes?"

"I know you had something different in mind when it happened, but... thanks for bringing our parents together," Finn said, a half-smile on his lips. "You're a good brother to have." Kurt really was smiling now, surprised but pleased at the sudden turn of the conversation.

"Thanks. You know, I never thanked you properly for what you did at our parents' wedding-"

"Don't sweat it, dude. I was just being the kind of guy I was supposed to be that whole week. You're going to miss your plane if you stay here, though, so I'll talk to you later, bro."

"Bye, Finn." Kurt slipped out of the truck and closed the door, turning to wave at Finn one last time and laughing when Finn accidentally hit the roof of the car in his haste to respond. Kurt could just barely see the outline of an R on his wrist through the tinted windows, something that had been a recent development over the past week. Grinning, Kurt started to walk into the airport, wondering what he'd find back in his apartment.

A long line or two and some heavy eye-rolling at staff later, Kurt was finally out of the terminal and heading towards his gate, thankfully with plenty of time to spare before departure. An airport Starbucks caught his eye and, though he usually avoided such commercial coffee, he hadn't had a vanilla spice latte in  _such_  a long time. It was the exception to what he called his 'Starbucks Statute.' 

So there he was, sitting at a small round table with his legs crossed, sipping at his latte as he watched the people around him, and trying not to think about anything except the upcoming project he had to work on for his History of Theatre class. His Letter kept vying for his attention, though, the familiar sensation all but gone at this point. Whoever B was, he was close by, and it took all of Kurt's resolve not to glance at the wrists of people passing by for a small red K.

 _I'm going back to New York and everything will go back to normal_ , he told himself.  _Rachel will squeal at me about her brand-new Letter, I'll try my best not to get too annoyed with her, and it'll all feel just right._

He checked the time on his phone and decided to find a spot near his gate to wait, refusing to waste any more time thinking about...  _that_. Things would be just fine as long as he didn't let himself dwell on the Letter, they always had been.

He didn't think there was a stranger in the world, not even B, that could change his mind.

 

* * *

 

Blaine walked quickly through the airport, hyper-aware of the time as he just narrowly avoided being trampled by a group of small children running in the opposite direction.

"Mister, where are you going?" one of them asked, giggling. Blaine just smiled sheepishly and waved before continuing on his way, hoping desperately that his flight would be delayed for some reason. His father had insisted on a family breakfast that morning, and though Blaine was pleasantly surprised (and a little confused) at the gesture, he'd spent just a little too long devouring the blueberry pancakes - his grandmother's recipe, and sinfully delicious.

"Hey man, you dropped something." Blaine whirled around to see a couple of guys, probably in their mid-twenties, staring at him. One of them held out a phone - Blaine's phone.

"Oh wow, thank you so much," Blaine said, taking it gratefully. "Hey, do you know which way Gate A3 is?" The two men looked at each other strangely before one of them pointed over his shoulder.

"That's the other way, dude."  _Shit._

"Oh, okay, thank you again," Blaine said hurriedly, starting off in that direction feeling slightly embarrassed. For all the signs and maps scattered around the airport, he should have known where he was going.

He thought he could hear muffled laughter behind him as he practically ran away, but he didn't have time to care. He was now two minutes late to departure and the last thing he wanted to do was to stay in Ohio any longer. The family time had been weirdly nice, but Blaine knew it wouldn't last, and airports were boring anyways.

He skidded to a stop as he noticed a Starbucks and, despite his time restrictions, decided on a whim to buy a slice of frosted banana coffee cake.

"You look like you're in a hurry," the barista, a sweet-looking, older woman, said.

"Yeah, I'm actually late for my flight," Blaine muttered, impatient. "But I'll have a caramel macchiato with the cake, I guess." The barista tutted at him, though she added the drink to his order.

"You're going to miss it," she said. "Mark my words, I'll be seeing you back here about fifteen minutes after you leave." Blaine smiled, sure that she was right, though he couldn't find the will to care - coffee was coffee, and he could stay in Ohio a bit longer for that.

"You go sit down, I'll bring this to you," she continued, shooing him away until he turned around to find a table, settling for a small, round one in the corner. Blaine sat down, taking a deep breath as he reminded himself that he had nothing to worry about, he could catch a later flight,  _pull yourself together._

Part of his stress came from his wrist, where he could feel next to nothing. There was no grounding pull, no steadying tug - only an empty space that gave him that extra hope he'd been trying to avoid. K was nearby and Blaine was resisting every urge to search for him. He couldn't be disappointed if he didn't try, after all.

"Here you go." The barista stepped up to the table and handed Blaine his cake and coffee. "If you're headed to L.A., I heard that flight left quite some time ago."

"That would be me," Blaine sighed. "Thanks for the coffee."

"That gate was also in the other direction, just so you know."

Blaine gave her a confused look before glancing out at the nearest navigational sign he could see. She was right, and those guys had been messing with him. Of course.

"Well, I guess it doesn't matter anymore," he said. "You'll get to see me for a while longer, though."

"That's fine by me, you're a handsome young man," she said with a wink before returning to the front counter. Blaine took a sip of his macchiato and closed his eyes, vaguely wondering if he could fit a nap in before chasing down a later flight. He pressed a thumb to the K on his wrist, trying to feel  _something_ , but it didn't really help.

God, he needed a distraction.

He finished off the coffee cake in minutes and stood up, stretching his arms. Grabbing his shoulder pack - which carried all the luggage he'd needed - and his coffee, Blaine set off to take a walk around the airport.

He didn't pay attention to where he was going; all he knew was that he needed to move. So Blaine strolled down the wide airport hallways, smiling at some of the people that passed by and cringing internally at others. Really, Blaine wasn't that much into fashion, but some of the things people wore left him utterly speechless - and not in a good way.

He heard an announcement as he neared some of the gates, a woman's cheerful voice announcing that a flight to New York City was boarding. Blaine glanced over in that direction; he'd always wanted to visit that particular place, though his determination to avoid the East Coast had thus far prevented any such vacation.

None of the people now standing up to board the plane caught Blaine's eye - that is, until a man moved into his line of sight; chestnut hair seeming to defy gravity, slim dark jeans that left nothing to the imagination, a defined jaw-

Blaine found himself hurrying to the gate for no reason except that, seeing that man, it made him want to know that soft smile and the mysteries it held; it made him want to hear how his own name would sound as it rolled off that tongue; it made him want to take a chance.

It was an impulse that Blaine could have shrugged off, just as he did every day that he'd spent in L.A. staring at his wrist - but he didn't want to, not this time.

The guy was already starting towards the plane, having passed the gate's front desk, and Blaine moved faster. He was sure that he looked ridiculous, but he was beyond the point of caring. He slipped past the other passengers in line, ignoring their protests, and reached his right arm out to gently grab the man's left arm, noticing a sudden warmth as he did so.

The man turned around, a foot already up the single step that led to the plane. Surprise and a little irritation showed in his expression - but then he glanced down, took in a quiet breath at Blaine's upturned wrist, and looked back at his face with something like awe.

"I'm Blaine," Blaine said, chest heaving from running, blissfully unaware of the fact that he'd spilled his coffee on his arm in the process.

"... Kurt."


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a world where soulmates exist but often never find each other, two teenage boys in Ohio soon give up on finding theirs. But when circumstances draw them too far apart for either of them to ignore, it’s only a matter of time, impulse, and a little bit of luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is super short for an epilogue, and for that I apologize.

"Why do you call me angel?"

The question, whispered into the still-charged space between them, came a few months after they'd finally met. Kurt wasn't surprised to see that Blaine was a little taken aback at his abruptness, but he was curious. He'd always been a bit wary of pet names, generally sticking to more common ones himself, but hearing 'angel' directed at him nearly always left him with a little smile.

"Well, I guess it's because you were -  _are_  - one, to me," Blaine said after a few moments' silence.

They were lying on the bed, facing each other, and Blaine took his right hand from where it was settled on Kurt's hip and laced his fingers into Kurt's between them. The contact, which brought their Letters close, meant comfort and safety; it meant home.

As much as the Letter had irritated him to no end, Kurt couldn't find the energy to care, not now that he was truly home. He'd never have been content - he'd have wandered his entire life, but for a single moment of luck, and of impulse, after what had seemed to be way too much time to wait, but now was as lightning's fleeting flash in his memory.

"When I first got it, things were kind of crazy," Blaine continued; Kurt didn't have to ask what he was talking about. "As you know, I was stuck in a hospital - I still feel bad about-"

"It wasn't your fault, B," Kurt said softly. Blaine looked away, sheepish.

"Sorry. Um, anyways, I didn't have a lot of friends after that. Dalton was nice, but really stiff and traditional, and no one seemed to care about my personal life. At least, no one asked, not until my senior year. Knowing that you were there, even if you had no idea who I was... it kept me grounded. Like an angel, watching me."

"I still can't believe we could have met at a show choir competition," Kurt grumbled, but his expression softened. "Wow, I- I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything, it's silly," Blaine said, chuckling a bit self-deprecatingly. Kurt shook his head, shifting so that he was closer to Blaine.

"It's not silly," he said, and kissed him. Blaine grinned into the kiss, and Kurt laughed as he pulled him closer, Blaine's skin warm against his - and still slightly sticky. Kurt scrunched up his nose against Blaine's cheek. "We should probably clean up."

"Mm, five more minutes," Blaine mumbled, nosing at Kurt's jaw and mouthing at his neck. Kurt closed his eyes involuntarily, feeling his heartbeat speed up as he tipped his head back.

"Blaine," he said, weakly protesting. "B, we need to sleep. Big day tomorrow." It was true; they were going to start moving into their own apartment together.

"Okay." Blaine pulled back, and Kurt could swear his heart skipped a beat at the sight of Blaine's faintly reddened lips. Blaine smiled a bit mischievously, glancing up at Kurt through his eyelashes. Kurt frowned, wondering what he was thinking. "Why do you call me B?"

Kurt rolled his eyes and smacked Blaine lightly on the shoulder as he laughed. "Such an idiot," he muttered. "Who's getting the towel this time?"

"I can think of a better way to clean up," Blaine said innocently. Kurt narrowed his eyes.

"If you're talking about taking a shower together-" Blaine nodded. "-Rachel's room is right next to the bathroom and it's almost 2 AM."

"We'll just have to be quiet, then," Blaine murmured, and Kurt knew he couldn't say no. "You think you can do it?"

"Try me."

 

* * *

 

His hair still slightly damp, Blaine was warm and comfortable in the grip of Kurt's arms, their legs tangled underneath the sheets. He could feel Kurt's quiet, even breaths breezing across the back of his neck, tickling at the loose curls there.

Kurt mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep, inching closer to Blaine until they were almost flush against each other. Blaine smiled, closing his eyes and trying to imagine how lucky he was. He hadn't found disappointment - he'd found his soulmate, love, even a best friend. He'd found his angel.

Blaine opened his eyes just enough to glance at the inside of Kurt's wrist, which was facing him. The B there, small and red and otherwise trivial in appearance, that was  _him_. He was a part of Kurt just as Kurt was a part of him, and though it was - at first - overwhelming, now Blaine took it as the final confirmation that he wasn't alone. He never had been, not really, but having proof that he was for someone else what Kurt was to him, that was a feeling that he couldn't describe with all the letters in the world.

"Goodnight, angel," he whispered softly, and he swore he felt Kurt's lips turn up in a smile against his shoulder.  _I love you._


End file.
